


notes on notes

by Mellow_Yellow



Series: Notes [2]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post Mpreg, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellow_Yellow/pseuds/Mellow_Yellow
Summary: anon wanted "could you do a continuation of Tommy and Lovett + domestic life in the mpreg verse? After Ben is born?" sorry it's not super fluffy, although it kind of gets there at the end.





	notes on notes

**Author's Note:**

> keep it secret keep it safe my dudes I'm counting on you

*

“You’re driving too fast," Jon said. He could see Tommy’s fingers flex warningly on the steering wheel. 

“The speed limit’s thirty-five," Tommy said evenly. "I’m going thirty-five.” 

“But it’s raining. There’s low visibility. Slow down.”

Tommy let out a short breath. He didn’t look at Jon, and he didn’t slow down, but he did turn up the speed of the windshield wipers, which would have appeased Jon somewhat if they weren’t in fucking Massachusetts and he wasn’t already feeling stretched to the breaking point.

For his part, Tommy had been in a bad mood since their plane had landed two days ago, attitude only worsening over the weekend until it had become a fucking typhoon and it was Jon's sole responsibility to be the positive cheerful polite half of their partnership to Tommy's family.

Which was not his natural position, and left him feeling helplessly mutinous by the end of the day, staring mutely out at the rain battering the car.

Tommy’s family were nice people. Jon had to keep reminding himself of that, teeth gritted. They were polite, cordial. Never raised their voices. They were nicer than Jon’s family by a lot, at least objectively. When he and Tommy had first taken Ben to meet Jon’s parents, Jon and his dad had gotten into a yelling match about trade policy that sent his dad storming to the other end of the house to slam the door while Jon hollered after him to stand and fight like a man while his mother rolled her eyes, scolding Jon for being so dramatic.

Watching in horror and also something like dawning comprehension, Tommy kept Ben firmly in his lap, looking ready to pick him up and flee out the door at the first opportunity. 

He hadn’t, because he was a good polite boy raised by rich repressed protestants who just really, really happened to hate Jon. Which Jon didn't even get to be upset about because Tommy was too busy being quietly furious for the both of them.

The rain kept hitting the outside of the car like a bunch of tiny fists while they both stewed, Jon replaying every weird way Tommy’s mom had snubbed him over the course of the last two days, Tommy self-righteously angry and making Jon madder just by osmosis.

Jon wanted to let it go for now, though. He didn't want to think about it anymore, at least not tonight, especially when Tommy was already so worked up.

He just wanted to get to the hotel, take Ben out of his car seat and feel the heavy, boneless weight of him in Jon’s arms, warm and limp and trusting. He wanted to smell his hair, the last fleeting wisps of that perfect baby smell, cuddling him until Jon didn’t feel so tightly wound anymore. Then he wanted to gently lay Ben down and watch him snore for while, and then go to bed himself and wrap Tommy’s long, heavy arms around himself until he just drifted off to the sound of his loud, familiar breathing in Jon's ear.

Even if Tommy was being a colossal pain in the ass tonight.

Right on cue, Tommy said, “I’m sorry.” He could never leave anything alone. 

Jon rolled his eyes. “Stop apologizing,” he insisted, exhausted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She’s just not comfortable around me yet, it’s fine. She’ll get used to me.”

“It’s impossible to get used to someone when you avoid them like they owe you a money,” Tommy grumbled.

“She doesn’t avoid me.” Jon didn’t want to be put in the position of defending Tommy’s mom, but what he was supposed to say? ‘Yeah, your mom really makes me feel like shit sometimes’? “She’s fine. Your family’s all fine.”

He didn't say that he could always feel Tommy’s mom’s eyes on him, following him wherever he was, hostile and resentful like she couldn’t figure out the hooks he had in her sweet upright son.

In his worst moments, Jon thought the only real reason was strapped into an expensive car seat in the back of the car.

He glanced over his shoulder at Ben, snoozing peacefully. His little mouth was partially opened, small snores whistling from his nose. The ENT doctor said it was probably a sinus thing, or seasonal allergies. Jon thought the snoring was the cutest thing in the world but it made Tommy anxious, so they were probably going to put him on allergy medication in the fall, poor little guy.

Ben had been a trooper all day. He was a solitary little thing most of the time, prone to wandering off to stare at interesting slants of light on the floor or to trail whatever pet he could find around the house. This weekend he’d allowed his grandmother to hold him in her lap most of the time, suffering silently as she dressed him up in little sweater vests and tiny shiny shoes that looked fucking adorable, Jon could admit, but made Ben all fidgety and Tommy frown when he saw the outfits. Even worse, they seemed to make Tommy revert until all he could do was sullenly shrug whenever his mom tried to ask him a question or shoot back a short, snippy response.

It was the theme of the trip, really. Jon getting a peek through the looking glass at what Teenage Tommy was like; in short, a fucking moody little pill.

Jon exhaled slowly. He hated when they fought. They barely did it, really. Mostly they argued about dumb fun stuff, winding each other up, bickering until Tommy was red-faced from laughing and Jon was preening, smug. 

Fighting was different. It made Jon say stupid, mean shit he didn’t even mean. Or mostly didn’t mean.

“She just doesn’t get my sense of humor sometimes,” he tried. He watched Tommy put on the turn signal, pulling carefully into the hotel parking lot.

Tommy’s mom had recommended they stay at the hotel, not at her house. Jon’s mom might be her own variety of asshole but at least she’d never ask her son and his well-meaning nerd boyfriend and their adorable spawn to stay at a goddamn hotel. 

Jon exhaled through his teeth, blowing that thought away from him.

“You know that’s not it,” Tommy said tersely.

The rain was just letting up now, lessening to a soft patter. Jon tried to remember if they had the umbrella, or if he would have to take off his sweatshirt to cover Ben’s face as they walked in. 

Sighing gustily, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Tommy, just stop it. Please.”

“Stop what?” Tommy stormed, picking up momentum. “Stop letting it bother me that my mom spent the whole weekend pretending that you don’t exist? You want me to just act like everything was fine and that it’s okay that she doesn’t even try to talk to you? That I don't see how much it hurts you?”

Jon felt the inklings of a headache threatening at his temple. “Everything  _was_  fine, I don’t know why you think your mom was upset.”

“Goddamn fucking wasps,” Tommy hissed furiously like he wasn’t also referring to himself, the unintentional self-burn making Jon snort humorlessly and Tommy turn to glare at him. “Just because someone’s not yelling, suddenly nobody’s mad, huh?” 

Jon let his head fall to the headrest as Tommy turned the car off with a jerk. “She loves Ben, she loves seeing him.” 

“Of course she loves seeing Ben,” Tommy said witheringly. “Everyone loves seeing Ben.”

Jon couldn’t argue with him there. All it took was one wide-eyed, dreamy look from Ben to make grandparents and friends of the pod and strangers in the check-out line fall in immediate love.

Somehow, Jon and Tommy had managed to produce the quietest, most polite, charming little space cadet of a kid Jon had ever met in his life. It felt like a clerical error. His own mother liked to gloat over what an irrepressible sassmouth Jon had been almost from the moment he learned to talk, so he’d assumed Ben was all Tommy’s genes, but Tommy had said no, mystified. He’d been an insufferable whiner as a toddler, apparently, which felt a lot more believable after this trip, frankly. Even Tommy’s mom, when pressed and unable to immediately slip away into the kitchen to avoid having a conversation with Jon, had grudgingly shared a few stories of Tommy throwing tantrums in the grocery store so bad they’d been asked to leave on more than one occasion. 

Ben had yet to throw a true tantrum. Once he learned to talk and ask for things, he only cried when he was sad or hurt, which made the effect even more pitiful than if he was intentionally trying to manipulate Jon or Tommy, really. Most of the time he was silent, taking in the world through speechless wide-eyed wonder.

“She likes seeing Ben, and she likes seeing you," Jon said firmly. "She just thinks we live too far away.”

“No, she thinks me and Ben live too far away,” Tommy spit out, fuming.

Jon didn’t truly understand what kind of fuse all this lit in Tommy whenever they visited. Jon was the one who had the right to be annoyed, but he had a mom of his own and besides, he had Tommy. Tommy really loved him. He always emptied the dishwasher and he couldn’t keep his hands off Jon most of the time and he got mad when people on Twitter told Jon he was being annoying. Tommy was the best. He didn’t need Tommy’s mom to like him, too. 

Even if he could admit it would be nice.

He saw Tommy open his mouth again and burst out with, “How is this making me feel better, listing all the ways your mom doesn't like me? What part of this fight is doing that?”

“I’m not fighting with you, I’m just mad.” 

“Yeah, but I still feel like shit, so.”

They lapsed into mutually annoyed silence.

“I just don’t understand why she’s such a dick to you,” Tommy said after a long moment when Jon was foolish enough to hope that maybe they would just move on.

“Don’t call your mom a dick,” Jon scolded.

Shooting Jon a narrow look, Tommy said, “She’s my mom, I can call her a dick if she was being a dick to my husband.”

Jon whipped his head around. “Your _what_ now?” He chuckled weakly, uneasily. “You’re married? Where’ve you been keeping that guy at?” 

He could see Tommy’s ears going red, jaw going tight. “You’re practically—it’s not—we have a _son_ together.”

“That doesn’t make us married, jesus.” Jon didn’t mean to sound so cold. It was just—they’d never talked about this. It didn’t both Jon, really, although maybe a part of him hoped it would have come up before this, long before, maybe right after Ben was born, but now it was just—there’d been things to do. The company to build up, podcast hegemony to establish, political resistance to pursue, and the next thing he knew Ben was nearly three years old and Tommy had never once brought up marriage. 

Obviously, Jon hadn’t either, but it felt more significant that Tommy hadn't. He was the one who’d been engaged once before, after all. He was the marrying type. The guy practically bled monogamy; he was made for marriage. Except he'd never brought it up, and never brought it up, until it felt like—if he wasn’t bringing it up, it was for a reason.  

Jon had long refused to let himself dwell on it. He couldn't. And he didn't appreciate Tommy forcing him to do so now.

He watched Tommy clenching the steering wheel again, facing forward and avoiding Jon’s gaze like a bisexual coward.

“So, that means, what." Tommy held himself stiffly. "You don’t want to?” 

Jon rotated his head to look at Tommy slowly, incredulously, like they were in a horror movie and he was the serial killer. He felt capable of a little violence just then. A smack over the head at the very least. 

“Are you fucking serious?” He hadn't meant to say it so loud, the words ringing in the rental car.

Tommy glanced in the rearview mirror sharply. “Lower your voice,” he said, infuriatingly. 

Jon twisted in his seat to look in the back seat. Ben was still conked out, his head drooping to the side. “I’m not going to wake the baby,” he bit out, annoyed. “He’s asleep. He’s fine.” He focused the force of his glare back onto Tommy. “What the _fuck_ , Tommy?”

Tommy's eyes were wild even though he was looking past Jon's shoulder, not meeting his gaze, even as he threw his hands up. “What? We can’t at least talk about it? You have to throw a huge tantrum at the thought of getting married to me?”

Jon’s ears were ringing. He couldn’t believe Tommy was saying these things so casually.

“I’m not throwing a tantrum, you dick, I just can’t _believe_ —three goddamn years and you just toss this out there? No warning?”

Tommy ran a hand over his hair shakily. His cheeks were red now. He looked embarrassed, and a part of Jon wilted at that, but a bigger part of him was melting down and he couldn’t quite spare the energy to try to comfort Tommy, not in the middle of all this.

“Why are you freaking out?” Tommy demanded irritably. “Just say you’re not into it and let’s move on, it’s fine.”

He still wouldn’t look at Jon, his brow furrowed and upset. It was driving Jon crazy. 

“I’m _not_ saying that," he said loudly, "I'm _saying_ you can’t just throw marriage into the ring because you’re mad at your mom, you selfish child!”

“I’m not ‘throwing it in the ring’ I just—I’m not doing anything because of my mom, Lovett, that’s not fucking fair.” 

“Then why now? What are you trying to prove?” 

“I’m not trying to _prove_ anything, maybe I want to marry the father of my kid, alright? Maybe I want to because I fucking _love_ you.” 

“Wow, that’ll really show her, Tommy, nice,” 

“Why do you keep bringing her into this, this isn’t about her,” Tommy argued, impossibly, in Jon’s opinion. “Why can’t we just have a normal discussion about it?” 

Because Jon couldn’t let himself believe it, somehow, he wanted to yell out, terrified. That after years of keeping a baby alive together, living together, working together, arguing and fucking and laughing and building this weird, frankly really awesome life together—it still seemed like too much to ask for.

—Is what he might have said if he hadn’t still felt so thrown for a goddamn loop. Instead, what he ended up saying was, “Well, maybe your mom and I have that something in common after all, we’re both just waiting to see when you’ll fucking wise up and leave me!”

The silence in the car was thunderous.

They were both taken aback, Jon knew, but most of all Jon. He didn’t know where that had been lurking in his head, so ready to come out he’d just blurted it all over the car. 

Tommy’s eyes widened. “ _Lovett_.”

“What?” Jon spat out, slightly shriek and panicky, not sure how that had slipped out. “You know she thinks that!”

“No, I don’t know that,” Tommy said, voice even and low, a sharp contrast to Jon’s rising temper. “But also I didn’t know _you_ still thought that.’

A frantic panicky energy was curling itself around Jon's heart. “Don’t turn this around, I’m not the crazy one, I didn’t just bring up marriage out of nowhere!” He was practically shouting now.

“It wasn’t out of _nowhere_!” Tommy was finally getting worked up, too, and it was a little satisfying, even if Jon was feeling more wretched by the minute at the same time. “Why are you being like this—” 

“I’m not being anything, you’re the one—” 

There was a small, soft sob from the backseat. 

Jon and Tommy froze. 

“Shit,” Tommy muttered under his breath. He gave Jon a flustered look. “You said the baby was asleep.” 

“He was!” Jon protested guiltily at the look on Tommy's face. “I’m sorry,  _god_ , he was asleep!” 

They both twisted in their seats to see him. Ben was watching them, definitely awake, tired eyes open and leaking tears as they darted back and forth between Jon and Tommy. They almost never fought in front of him. He was like a canary for conflict, wilting at the first sign of tension.

“Hey, Ben,” Jon said softly, voice hoarse.

Under the weight of Jon’s attention, Ben choked out another sob.

“Shit,” Tommy said again.

Jon swatted him on the arm. “Language.” He leaned into the space between the seat, looking at Ben. “Did we wake you up?”

Mouth open in an upside down crescent of despair, Ben nodded. Tears were sliding down his face. Any other kid would probably be wailing by now. Not Ben. Ever polite, he held a small fist to his mouth, muffling the sobs. 

Christ, Jon wanted to throw himself off a cliff. 

“We’re sorry, buddy,” Tommy added. “We shouldn’t have been so loud.”

Fuck, Jon was the worst parent in the world. “Too much fighting?” he asked softly. Ben nodded again, crying. Jon was mostly pinned by his seatbelt still so he reached a hand back. “A lot of yelling, huh?” Ben nodded once more, still crying, stretching his arm out to grasp at Jon’s hand with his chubby fingers for comfort.

Jon rubbed his thumb gently over the soft skin of Ben's hand. “Sh, buddy. It’s okay, little man. Everything’s fine.” He felt his own eyes burning. He was so tired. He fucking hated Massachusetts and feeling insecure and inadequate as a parent. He squeezed Ben’s little palm. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

Tommy’s warm large hand settled on Jon’s thigh, just above his knee.

Jon spared a glance for him. Tommy looked wretched, eyes wide and tragic as he looked imploringly at Jon.

Jon was still pissed at him, and they were probably going to argue more later when they were home in two days and the baby was safely in bed in a separate room, but for now, it was nice to know that at least one other person in the car felt like a horrible parent who deserved to die for their crimes. He wasn’t alone there, at least. It was a small comfort.

Slowly, Ben's tears slowed, until he was just holding Jon's hand, blinking slowly. Jon breathed out slowly, relieved. Not permanently scarred then. Probably.

“The rain stopped,” Tommy pointed out in the quiet.

They got out of the car wordlessly, Jon coming around to Ben’s side. When he opened the door he saw Ben’s eyes were drooping again. Jon wiped at the tears drying on the baby's face, his own chest still residually aching.

“Let’s go inside, huh?” He unbuckled the car seat. “I’m ready for bed, how about you?” 

He scooped Ben onto his hip, looping an arm under his butt so he could hang in Jon’s arms. He rocked him in the humid air, watching Tommy get their bags out of the back, swinging them over his shoulder. He came to stand beside Jon and Ben on the curb. 

Carefully, Tommy cupped his hand around the back of Ben’s dark, curly head. With the other hand, Jon felt him touch the small of Jon's own back, too, just as carefully.

“He’s beat,” Tommy murmured. “Long day.”

He seemed to be talking about all of them.

Slowly, Ben went heavy as he drifted off again, gangly legs bobbing limply against Jon’s sides, Jon rubbing his hand slowly up and down Ben’s warm back.

Making a small noise, Ben tangled a hand in Jon’s shirt, turning his face into Jon’s neck to snuffle. He was still asleep and Jon couldn’t bear the thought of him waking up again, crying. Staring at them with his wide dark eyes, imploring them not to expose him to emotional upheaval while the neurological pathways of his tiny brain were still developing and vulnerable to trauma. 

Probably Jon was projecting there, but Ben was very advanced for his age. Jon wouldn’t put it past him.

“Sh, little man,” he hummed into the crown of the baby’s head.

They stood like that for a while, Ben asleep, Tommy’s hand on Jon’s back, Jon swaying all three of them gently back and forth.

Nearly all of his annoyance from this godforsaken trip was melting away, at least for the night. He didn’t know why he got like this around Tommy’s family. They made him feel so guilty. It was all in the past at this point—Ben was a lanky two-year-old, and any lingering resentment Jon thought Tommy still held onto about the way things started was purely in his own head. He could admit that. He just wished Tommy wouldn't let it get to him so much, either.

It made Jon so suspicious, and guilty, like Tommy was projecting his own latent anger and distrust at Jon onto his mom.

And being around Tommy’s mom, and seeing how she watched Jon, like she just couldn’t trust him, made him feel like he was trapped in the body of a pregnant idiot once again, terrified and alone and keeping an enormous, life-altering secret from the love of his life for months. 

Maybe it was Jon projecting most of all.

“I don’t like it when you joke about me leaving you,” Tommy said unexpectedly, his voice a hoarse whisper in the quiet parking lot. Jon heard him swallow. “You know that.” 

Jon sighed. He did know that. He leaned into Tommy’s side. “I’m sorry.” He pushed against his instinct to bicker back, even when he was tired and feeling guilty for letting the flight escalate this far in the first place—

“And I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass all weekend," Tommy added. "I’m sorry I get like this around her. I hate ruining Ben’s time with her.” Tommy sounded strained. Any other time Jon would be resisting the urge to gloat at Tommy apologizing so thoroughly but not now; he sounded miserable and Jon hated it.

Tommy pulled him closer, almost unconsciously, as he spoke. “I keep thinking—maybe if I keep trying, if she just spends more time with you, gets to know you better, and sees you with Ben and what a great father you are, I just—how could she  _not_?”

“Not what?”

“Love you.” Tommy pressed a kiss to the side of his head, arm looping further until it was wrapped around Jon’s whole hip, securing him close to Tommy’s side. “How could she not be crazy about you,” he mumbled into Jon’s hair.

Jon shifted Ben to wrap an arm around Tommy, too. “I’m kind of an acquired taste.” 

Tommy shook his head stubbornly. “No, you’re not.”

Leaning his head on Tommy's shoulder, Jon sighed. "I love you, so much."

Between them, Ben mumbled, his arm jerking. Tommy gave his head a final soft scritch and led the way into the hotel, hand on Jon's back the whole time.

They wandered up to their room, both lost in their own thoughts, Ben twitching intermittently in sleep between them. 

In the hotel room, Jon gently sat Ben down and started on his small shoes, Tommy assisting with taking his jacket off, his shirt and pants, helping Jon pull his pajamas on.

“Daddy,” Ben murmured vaguely when he was settled in bed, eyes fluttering open for a tiny minute.

Jon knelt down on the floor so they were eye level. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly. “We’re right here.” He pulled up the motel sheets to Ben’s chin. Tommy leaned his hip into the side of the bed near Ben’s head. 

Ben’s dark eyebrows drew together. “No fighting,” he warned. Like they were picking up a conversation right in the middle of it.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Alright. You made your point.” He carded his fingers through Ben’s hair, shaking his head ruefully. “We heard you. Give it a rest." 

Above him, Tommy laughed and covered Jon’s other hand where it rested on Ben’s chest.

“You’re very right, honey. I shouldn’t fight with your dad,” Tommy told Ben confidingly, glancing mischievously at Jon, not being cute at all. “He’s always right. You should remember that.’ 

They watched Ben fall back asleep until he was snoring. After a while, Tommy stood and pulled Jon up with him by the hand he was still holding.

He smiled tiredly, stubborn and sincere and so dear. Bags under his eyes, kind of pale and shiny. He gave Jon a visceral sense memory of the White House days, only parenting a toddler turned out to be about ten to thirty percent more intense in terms of sleep deprivation. Tommy was still so fucking good-looking it made Jon's teeth ache. He was still here, with Jon, doing this with him. Choosing Jon, every day. Him and Ben.

He put his hands on Tommy’s chest and pushed him backward. 

“What—Lovett,” Tommy protested, laughing softly, letting Jon manhandle him against the wall. 

Jon grabbed onto his wrists, pinning Tommy’s longer arms to his chest, ignoring the brightness of Tommy’s eyes and the way he licked his lips as he stared down at Jon. Instead, he focused on bracing himself for what he was about to say.

He squeezed Tommy’s wrists tight and said, “Let’s do the dumb thing.” 

Tommy went still, the moment when the meaning of Jon’s words connected for him visible on his face. He stared at Jon in shock, Jon staring back, unaccountably but predictably nervous.

A slow smile grew until it was dancing at the corners of Tommy’s mouth. “Say it right.”

“Let’s grow old and die together.”

Tommy's eyes were mostly squeezed shut from smiling so hard. He shook his head. “You’re so close. Try again.”

Jon took a deep breath. He’d always assumed it would be Tommy doing this, in the rare moments when he let himself imagine it. It was surprisingly hard to say it himself. 

It felt so daring. He hadn’t realized how far he’d pushed it from his mind as even a possibility.

“Tommy. I—I want to be with you forever. Can we. Can we do that?” He couldn’t stop stuttering, and then he couldn’t stop blushing, horrified at himself. He talked for a _living_.

Smile going soft, Tommy moved his arms from Jon’s grip and cupped his hands softly on Jon’s jaw. “Yeah, Lovett,” he murmured happily. “I’ll marry you.” 

The word sent a jolt through Jon’s whole body. His eyes burning suddenly, he went abruptly up on his toes and pressed his mouth to Tommy’s in a hurry, making a really embarrassing whimpering sound he’d care about later. Tommy’s kept hold of Jon’s face, tilting it up so he could suck on Jon’s lower lip.

Jon shivered, fingers tightening at Tommy’s waist.

They made out hungrily for a while, neither pushing for more, Tommy wrapping Jon up tighter and tighter in his arms until when Jon pulled away to catch his breath their faces were barely an inch apart. 

Tommy was still smiling at him, looking happier than he had in days. Jon returned it, helplessly.

“Maybe this will make your mom happy,” Jon joked. “We won’t be living in sin anymore. Maybe that was the sticking point all along.” Before the light in Tommy’s eyes could darken, Jon swooped in and kissed him again.

Tommy sighed into Jon’s mouth., letting everything else go for once, apparently just as finished as Jon was about talking about Tommy’s mom for the moment. 

It didn’t really matter what Tommy’s mom thought about Jon anyway. He knew that, and it was easier to remember it at some times than at others.

Now was one of those times. 

When he could hear Ben snoring softly on the bed behind them, and Tommy making little noises as he licked into Jon’s mouth, and Jon’s own heart pounding against his ribs. Everything loud and quiet at the same time.

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> [turmblur](https://ohjafeeljadefinitelyfeel.tumblr.com/)


End file.
